


Echoes of Fenris

by LeeBlack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, F/M, M/M, Sane Peter, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBlack/pseuds/LeeBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Hale was a proud man, though he was not without his demons, and he knew much better than to consider himself an altogether good man. He'd allowed himself to succumb to madness over six years of isolation in a human hospital. The insanity had led him to what he'd done, and he held himself accountable for killing his own blood to ensure he had enough power to eliminate the people responsible for destroying his pack.</p>
<p>Fortunately, death had tempered his madness, returning to him his sanity and leaving him with only an echo of the rage that had previously consumed him.</p>
<p>And with his return to life and sanity, he had no intention of allowing the ragtag remains of the Hale Pack to continue to survive in squalor. After all, he could hardly dignify coming back from the dead only to lurk in the shadows around the former Hale Estate. His Pack would grow to be something to be feared, he would make sure of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peter Hale was a proud man, though he was not without his demons, and he knew much better than to consider himself an altogether good man. He’d allowed himself to succumb to madness over six years of isolation in a human hospital. The insanity had led him to what he’d done, and he held himself accountable for killing his own blood to ensure he had enough power to eliminate the people responsible for destroying his pack.

Fortunately, death had tempered his madness, returning to him his sanity and leaving him with only an echo of the rage that had previously consumed him.

The first thing he’d done after coming back and making sure that his sanity was intact was confronting his nephew. Their conversation had been far from pleasant, more than a little bloody, and he was unsure if Derek would be able to truly trust him again, not that he was overly concerned about that yet. They’d settled into a terse, uneasy amiability, both of them agreeing that cooperation was absolutely necessary for the survival of the pack. Or, what was serving as a pack, at the moment.

The action that would need to be taken to deal with the fallout from the entire Kanima problem was proof enough of that.

Once he was relatively confident that his nephew wouldn’t be killing him in his sleep, Peter had sought out a target that, while no less volatile, had much fewer claws and fangs. He’d deliberately chosen a time when the boy was home alone before approaching the house. After a moment of silent deliberation, he’d chosen to use the front door rather than the window on the second floor, which bore the faint scents of at least two other wolves, one of them Derek. He knocked once and waited patiently.

The door opened after almost five minutes to reveal a bruised and exhausted young man. To his credit, Stiles didn’t seem too surprised to see him. He waited, uncharacteristically still and silent.

“How badly hurt are you?” Peter asked, making sure to keep his tone gentle.

“Not badly enough to change my answer,” was the quiet response. “What do you want, Peter?” His continued calm was disconcerting, though his fingers had started twitching, betraying his unease with the situation.

“May I come in?” At the look his question received, his lips quirked up into a slight smirk. “It is not my intention to harm you today. I am only here for a conversation.”

“Right, cause that’s reassuring. You’ve always been so forthcoming before,” Stiles said dryly, stepping aside just enough to allow Peter inside.

Only after the door was shut and locked behind the two of them did Peter speak again. “How bad is it, really?” he asked, his eyes glowing blue as he smelled the boy’s pain and noticed the way he stood hunched into himself. “It’s more than just your face.”

Stiles offered him a self-deprecating smile and lifted up his threadbare BHPD tshirt to reveal a medley of different colored bruises, covering his entire torso. He dropped the shirt after a few seconds, shrugging and failing to hide the wince that movement elicited. “It looks worse than it is, really. I can handle it.”

“You were meant to be a message.” It wasn’t a question. Peter was well aware of the tactics the Argents made use of.

“Messages don’t really work when your best friend is working with the enemy,” he said, scowling. “And they won’t be received well when I’m responsible for leaving two of Derek’s pack members in the basement to be tortured,” he added.

Peter frowned slightly but didn’t say anything. The boy’s insight was remarkable, and, not for the first time, he found himself wanting the boy in his pack. He could only prove to be an asset. Instead, he found himself reaching out to press his hand to the boy’s face, not quite touching the bruises and ignoring his flinch at the contact. “I’m not going to hurt you, Stiles,” he said. “I told you, I’m only here for a conversation.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word on it,” the young man said, some of his usual snark returning. He didn’t move away from the touch, though, so Peter counted that as a slight victory as black tendrils snaked their way up his arm. Stiles inhaled sharply. “What are you doing?”

“Taking the pain away so we can have a relatively lucid conversation,” Peter murmured, ignoring the discomfort. “I can’t heal you in any way, and since you’re human the wounds will last longer, but I can make them less painful for you.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said hesitantly. It didn’t take too long before he leaned into the touch a bit, his eyes fluttering closed as the pain left him.

After about ten minutes of almost comfortable silence, Peter pulled his hand back. He almost chuckled at the way Stiles chased after the contact, catching himself at the last minute with a bright blush. “There’s no need to feel strange about this,” he said gently. “Your body still believes that it’s in pain. From what I understand, the sensation is somewhat similar to being high.”

“How would you know?”

A faint smile appeared on his face, and he knew his eyes had taken on a haunted look. “My wife was human before she asked to be turned,” he said.

Stiles flushed a bright red, looking away and muttering a quiet yet genuine apology.

An awkward silence settled for a moment.

“We probably shouldn’t have set you on fire when you were crazy,” Stiles said as he walked through the house, making his way to the kitchen. “I mean, you’d’ve probably ended up killing all of us, but the molotov cocktails were kind of a dick move, I guess.”

“Indeed,” Peter murmured, following the young man. He raised an eyebrow at the plate of curly fries and the math homework spread out on the kitchen table, but said nothing.

“You didn’t come here just because you’re a nice guy who wants to get me high on dopamine or whatever,” Stiles said, dropping into his seat at the table, snagging a handful of the curly fries and watching Peter expectantly.

The older man nodded, taking a seat across from Stiles and eyeing the plate of curly fries almost warily.

“Dude, if you want some, have some. They’re not gonna bite,” Stiles said, grinning at his joke. 

Peter smirked but made no move to take a fry. Instead, he found himself inspecting the boy with a detached sort of curiosity. His eyes, as usual, were quite fascinating. He’d never encountered a human with eyes that reminded him of the golden sheen of Beta eyes, and that characteristic only worked to reassure Peter of his confidence in the human’s value. 

“I’m still not changing my mind,” Stiles said, misinterpreting the silence for something more duplicitous than it was.

“You still lied to me.”

Stiles said nothing, shoving another few fries into his mouth as he stared at Peter, unflinchingly meeting the older man’s gaze. Both of them were aware of the challenge in his gaze. “You’re not an Alpha anymore,” he said, a new edge to his tone making the challenge blatantly obvious. “You couldn’t change me if you wanted to.”

_And oh, how I want to_. Making up his mind about how to best handle the situation, Peter leaned back a bit, making himself more comfortable in the chair and finally taking a fry from the plate. “The Bite is a gift,” he said, his eyes glowing blue as he spoke. “And it is one that would suit you particularly well.”

“I know it’s a gift,” Stiles said, ignoring Peter’s second statement. In a rare display of maturity, he shrugged, the movement no longer painful for him. “I’m not ready for it.”

“Yet.”

Stiles hummed an acknowledgement but didn’t say anything, waiting for Peter to make his next move.

Peter, for his part, smirked again. “You will make an exceptional wolf when you make your decision,” he said. “But that’s not entirely why I’m here.”

“Then why?” he asked.

“You’ve proven yourself more than capable, particularly for a human,” Peter said, keeping his tone calm so as not to spook the young man. “And with the recent events, I found myself wondering about your status.”

Stiles frowned. “I’m a human. That’s my status.”

Biting back the urge to roll his eyes, Peter settled for shaking his head. “I’m talking about pack status. You’re carrying the scents of two wolves, one an Alpha and the other barely more than an Omega, though both scents are faint,” he said. “And you’ve been seen associating with wolves enough that you can no longer claim bliss by ignorance.”

Stiles nodded, absorbing the information. “Scott’s an Omega?”

“The Argent girl will always side with her family, as her kind has done for generations. I have very little doubt that she is being trained in the ways of hunters even as we speak, and once she is taught, she will be a threat to both werewolves and those she considers sympathizers,” Peter said. 

“You’re talking like this is a war.”

“It is.” Peter waited for the next question.

“But what if he’s got me?”

“He hasn’t been around in close to three weeks, Stiles. His scent is almost completely faded from you.”

At that, Stiles scowled. “You’ve been smelling me?”

“It’s a habit. All wolves scent their pack mates,” Peter said. “And those who they’d like to be pack.”

“So you’re recruiting me?” Stiles asked. His eyes narrowed as he watched Peter for a long moment. “What’s happening? Other than Scott basically turning into the Argent lapdog so he doesn’t get shot for panting after Allison?”

Peter smiled. It was a small, genuine smile and he watched Stiles’ brow furrow, not sure how to interpret the expression. “You have such a wealth of potential, Stiles.”

That earned him a scowl.

“You’re turning back into the skeevy wolf, Peter.”

“There is a pack coming, and they’re dangerous,” he said, pulling his focus back to the issue at hand. 

“Aren’t all of you?”

“So good of you to have noticed,” he said, falling back on the smarmy smirk that he’d given Stiles before offering him the Bite. The parking garage seemed so long ago. “It’s an Alpha pack.”

Stiles frowned. “All of them are Alphas?” he asked. His gaze went distant for a moment as he thought things over. His fingers came up to tap out an odd rhythm on the tabletop, curly fries momentarily forgotten. Once he’d thought things over, his gaze sharpened back on Peter. “Why?”

Peter was silent for a moment, contemplating how to best share what he knew. Finally, he settled on erring on the side of caution. “We can have our tutoring session some other time, when I’ve come with less delicate news to share,” he said. “You’ve been exposed to our world enough that your scent has been changed. There will always be a scent of wolf on you, and the Alphas will see that as a threat.”

“Me?”

“A human not truly bound to any pack. It puts us all at a greater risk of exposure, even if we both know that you’re not willing to risk putting more humans in harm’s way,” he said. “Once they find you, and they _will_ ,” he said, doing his best to emphasize his point without frightening the young man sitting across from him. “They will either turn you and take you as part of their pack, or they will kill you to prevent any threat to our kind,” he said.

At that statement, Stiles paled. The bruises on his face stood out even more starkly and, for a brief moment, Peter caught a glimpse of what Stiles had been like as a pup. Er, child. He found himself almost charmed by the innocence he could still see in the young man. “So you came to help me? Out of what, the goodness of your heart?” His voice was weak, though, and neither of them missed the slight trembling of his fingers. 

“In a manner of speaking,” Peter said with a shrug of his own.

“Why?”

Peter leaned forward, adopting the same expression he wore when he’d had the conversation with Margaret about her taking the Bite. Understanding, empathetic, with an edge of the predator that conveyed the absolute seriousness about the conversation taking place. “I can think of no one else in the world that would be brazen enough to challenge an Alpha for his prey,” he said, not missing the scowl at the vague reference to the redhead who’d proven so useful. “You will be an asset to the pack whether you are human or wolf, and you’ve already proven yourself more than qualified to join my nephew’s pack.” He waited a moment, making sure that he still had Stiles’ complete attention before speaking again. “It would be an enormous waste for a wolf hearted young man like yourself to be killed or stolen away from the pack that is already halfway his,” he said.

Stiles blushed at the compliment but didn’t say anything. “Does Derek know about this?”

“He will,” Peter said, settling on a more neutral answer. At the curious look Stiles shot him, he leaned back a bit. “Derek is young, but he’s known about your potential even before he became Alpha. It would be an incredible loss for him if he were to approach you with an offer, only for you to turn him down in favor of staying with your ambitious little friend.”

“Wait, he wants _me_ in his pack?” 

“I believe I just said that,” Peter said before pausing. He heard the faint purr of Derek’s Camaro coming around the end of the street and smirked internally. He’d known his nephew wanted the Spark in his pack, and no doubt he didn’t trust Peter enough yet to feel anywhere near comfortable allowing him to be around the boy unsupervised. “I didn’t come here expecting an immediate answer,” he said, standing up.

Stiles mirrored the action, frowning slightly. “But it has to be soon, doesn’t it?” he asked. “If the Alpha pack is already on its way here?”

He’d known the boy was smart. Peter nodded before he made his way out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. 

“How long before I have to make my choice?” Stiles asked, walking beside him.

“No more than two days.”

“I have questions.”

“Don’t you always?” Peter asked with an indulgent smile. “I will not promise to answer any or all of them, but I will be more open to this discussion when you’ve made up your mind,” he said.

Stiles nodded absently, no doubt already thinking about it as he opened the door.

“I’ll be back in two days,” Peter said, stepping out onto the porch.

“But no pressure, right?” Stiles asked, chewing almost absently on his bottom lip as he watched Peter.

“None whatsoever, pup.” He reached out, gently cupping Stiles’ face, and frowned at the bruises. The boy didn’t flinch this time. “You should wrap your chest tonight. You’ve got a broken rib and two bruised ribs. The pressure will help some with the pain,” he said.

Stiles nodded his thanks and shut the door.

Peter waited until he heard the deadbolt slide into place before leaving the porch and walking down the sidewalk to meet the Camaro. No doubt Derek would be interested to see how this new development played out.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, no more than ten minutes after the Sheriff left for his overnight shift, there was a knock on the front door. 

Stiles opened it just over a minute later, relaxing slightly when he saw Peter. “Hey,” he said, shifting slightly and not quite meeting Peter’s eyes. “I ordered pizza.”

“Excellent. I invited my nephew,” Peter said, stepping inside once Stiles opened the door enough for him to move inside. “He should be here in about ten minutes, which gives the two of us time to bond before we get to the matter at hand.” He caught a glimpse of a new bruise on Stiles’ face, pulling his curiosity back for the moment. 

“Great,” Stiles muttered darkly. “If you even hint at going for the bad touch, I’m going to brain you with whatever I can reach first.”

“Which bad touch would that be?” Peter asked with a grin. “There are a number to choose from, as you may know.” He looked around a bit before taking off his overcoat and tossing it over the back of the couch before looking back at Stiles. He hadn’t missed the flinch that his sudden movement had inspired, and it hadn’t happened during their earlier conversation, so that only left one other option. “What happened?”

“My dad’s back at work,” Stiles said, pretending at nonchalance as he walked further into the living room. His laptop and a number of books were spread out on the coffee table and floor. Most of it looked like homework, but Peter caught a glimpse of a Latin textbook that he knew had nothing to do with the current Beacon Hills high school curriculum. “He’s the Sheriff again and everything, which is great, even though a giant fucking Jackson lizard killed half the department, and I’ve known most of them since I was a kid,” he said, flopping back on the couch.

Peter stayed silent, watching Stiles and waiting. The boy would get to his point soon enough, and they’d take things from there. He’d had some experience when it came to dealing with misdirection tactics like this. He took a seat on the armchair next to the couch, continuing his silent observation.

“And Scott seems to forget that I’ve known him since we were kids, and I can tell when he’s lying even without the furry version of Spidey senses. He left my dad unconscious with Reptar and then I see him strolling out with a geriatric asshole, talking about how he’s done the right thing,” Stiles muttered. “I talked to him after lacrosse practice, and pack dynamics came up,” he said before trailing off.

It didn’t take Peter long to catch onto what wasn’t being said. “He attacked you?”

“He lost control,” Stiles said, sounding almost apologetic. “It wasn’t his fault. He hates Derek.”

“What happened?” 

“He tossed me around a bit and shoved me into a wall. I think the bruises turned into breaks.”

Peter frowned slightly. “And the black eye?” he asked, moving to sit next to Stiles on the couch.

“Allison hit me when I asked her to talk to Scott about it, since it could keep both of them safer than staying alone. Southpaw, that girl is,” he said, eyeing Peter warily as the older man reached for his face. “I put frozen peas on it when I got home.”

“That’s not the point.”

Stiles scowled, opening his mouth to retort when Peter took hold of his chin, turning it almost gently. “Then what’s the point? He’s allowed to get angry.”

“Not to this degree, and not toward you.”

That statement piqued Stiles’ curiosity. “Not to me?” he asked.

“That boy is likely unaware of this, as he’s done nothing to embrace his wolf, but this assault warrants severe punishment,” Peter said coolly, scowling as he inspected the damage.

“He just lost control a little,” Stiles said, whimpering when Peter prodded at a bruise he hadn’t noticed. “He and Derek have never been exactly simpatico, and I think he smelled you on me or something,” he said. 

Making an irritated noise in the back of his throat, Peter pressed his palm against the worst of the bruises and started siphoning the boy’s pain. “He’s worse than a pup. If this continues, you will find your friend has become an Omega.”

“Dude, it’s not that bad.”

With his free hand, Peter grabbed Stiles’ chin, forcing him to look into his too-bright blue eyes. “He has had enough time to learn to control his wolf without reacting like this to the mere mentioning of a rival, even an Alpha,” he said. “He may be your friend, Stiles, but he is easily capable of killing you if he is unable to reign in control.”

Stiles was silent for a long moment, not looking away until Peter let go of his chin. “So why’s this call for a beatdown?” he asked, gesturing at his face.

“Both Derek and Scott have a minor claim on you at the moment,” came the calm response. “There are laws among our kind about this sort of thing. You’re a human with ties to both packs, so the Alphas, or the stand-in Alphas, of both are permitted to court you for your allegiance. Violence is not part of our courting, since bringing a new member into a pack under duress like that can have serious repercussions on the pack at large,” he said. “Even more so because of what you’re capable of, with your magic.”

Stiles frowned slightly, suddenly becoming entranced with the black tendrils curling up Peter’s forearm. “I’m just a spark,” he said quietly, one hand reaching out almost timidly to touch one of the black threads. When Peter remained silent and didn’t react, he traced the line down to the fingers, an almost childlike fascination lighting up his face. 

Peter watched the young man with a detached sense of curiosity. For as much as he was sure Stiles was capable of, the boy was more than able to surprise him, and he found that intriguing.

“What happens after I choose? To the other pack, I mean,” Stiles said suddenly, looking up at Peter.

“They no longer have a claim on you, and, depending on how protective the Alpha is over his human packmates, he would consider any further courting attempts as a threat, if not an outright challenge,” Peter said. His gaze focused on the bruise on Stiles’ face. “Very few of the confrontations that follow those threats end with both Alphas walking away.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, looking faintly horrified.

The silence that settled between the two of them this time was much less awkward. It was surprisingly comfortable, and almost friendly. It ended when Stiles squirmed out of Peter’s reach, a light flush on his cheeks.

“I’ll be good for a while,” he said, not quite meeting Peter’s almost amused gaze. “Thanks.”

Peter bit back a chuckle, choosing instead to nod before starting to look around the living room. 

It was simple, comfortable, if covered in a light sheen of dust. The leather sofa and armchair were well-worn, no doubt because of the large television in the room. There were a few pictures up on the wall, all of them with just two people. Stiles, in various stages of growth, and his father, who was aging rather well considering the stress of the man’s job and single fatherhood. None of the young man's mother, though. 

Stiles shifted a bit, turning his focus back onto the books in front of him. “The remote’s probably on the kitchen table,” he said in a clear dismissal.

Peter hummed quietly, choosing to pick up the nearest book and flip through it, becoming increasingly amused upon learning that it was a copy of a creature encyclopedia based in JK Rowling’s universe. When he reached the entry on werewolves, he found himself outright chuckling. “Did you find anything useful in this?” he asked.

Stiles looked up, confused, before shaking his head. He didn’t seem to be at all embarrassed about having thought to look through it. “Nothing that seems true. Why? Did I miss something?”

“You’re not going to find anything useful in anything that can be found in your public library,” Peter said.

“Do you have anything that would help more than these books?” 

Peter just made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat as he glanced through the rest of the book. “Are you trying to come up with your own bestiary?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Stiles shrugged. “I figure I’m not going to be able to get away from this supernatural asshattery, so it would be better for me to learn everything I can about the creepies and crawlies and long legged beasties that apparently haunt the Hills,” he said, a grin on his face.

Peter chuckled. “What are you working from?”

“The stuff I learned to help Scott and the copy of the Argent bestiary that I may or may not have accidentally taken from grandpa before Jackson lost his scales,” Stiles said. At Peter’s skeptical look, he grinned. “You learn a few tricks when you spend a lot of time at the police station.”

The older man arched an eyebrow curiously, setting aside the Harry Potter book for a large stack of papers about a few species of wolfsbane flowers.

“When I was eight, one of my dad’s deputies taught me how to pick locks,” Stiles continued. “He thought it was hilarious, and I may or may not have looked around the principal’s office while Argent was otherwise occupied.”

“What other tricks are you hiding up those deliciously red sleeves of yours?” Peter asked, eyeing Stiles’ red hoodie with a barely concealed smirk.

Before the younger man had the chance to answer, the front door opened and Derek walked inside, immediately shooting a scowl in Peter’s direction. “What are you doing here?”

Peter shrugged. “I saw the boy’s potential first, nephew, which makes me more than qualified to sit in on the conversation you’re about to have with him,” he said. The doorbell rang a few seconds later and Peter stood, grabbing the two twenties from the side table as he went.

Stiles looked over at Derek, not saying anything as the Alpha took a seat on the couch and looked around.

“You’re hurt.”

That wasn’t the first thing Stiles expected to hear. He shrugged. "I'll live."

Derek looked less than pleased at that answer but he didn’t say anything, choosing instead to watch Peter come back into the room with three boxes of pizza. 

...

Once they'd all made themselves comfortable in the living room, quickly decimating the pizza, Stiles looked between the two Hales almost curiously. Derek returned the gaze, appearing almost as intrigued as Stiles, but the elder Hale was still looking through the report on wolfsbane. 

“You’ve thought about the offer,” Peter said, finally setting the report aside and looking at Stiles. “And I would hope you’ve streamlined your questions into something easily manageable.”

“For now.”

“What offer?” Derek asked, shooting a suspicious not-quite-glare in his uncle’s direction. 

Peter shrugged. “I merely told him that it would be safer for him to be part of a pack,” he said. “If I happened to point out that yours is the closest thing to a competent pack, then that might have been purely coincidental.”

Stiles grinned.

Derek just scowled at Peter and looked over at Stiles. "Ask your questions."

"If I agree, there are gonna be rules, aren't there?" he asked, shifting to make himself more comfortable in his father's chair. At Derek's nod, he bit back a frown. "What are they?"

"The most important rule is that the pack has to come first," Derek said. "This is a serious commitment, and since the stability of the pack is dependent on its members, we cannot afford anything less than full participation from everyone. You'll be given some allowances because you're a human, and I'm not going to put you in a position that forces you to choose between us and your father," he said.

Stiles hesitated, glancing over at Peter before looking back at Derek.

Peter frowned. "If you join the Hale pack, some protection will be extended to your father. He's pack-adjacent, so some measures will be taken to keep him safe, but the pack member will always come first," he said, already anticipating the reason for Stiles' sudden reluctance. 

"Does he have to be let in on the big furry secret?"

Derek shrugged. "There's no urgent need to tell him right now, but I'm not going to rule it out in the future," he said. 

"Depending on how well he takes it, it might prove to our advantage to have someone in law enforcement on our side," Peter mused absently.

Stiles sighed heavily. "It would make things more dangerous for him," he said quietly.

"He would be protected if you told him," Derek said.

"Right." Stiles was silent for a moment. "What are the other rules?"

"You have to keep pack business internal, no matter what. The stability of the pack itself is at stake and the lives of the pack members are literally at risk if the wrong people find out important things," Derek said. "Challenging the Alpha is unacceptable during serious conversations, and if you challenge me in front of anyone outside of the pack, you'll be punished." He smirked at the mutinous look on Stiles' face. "You're more than welcome to disagree with my decisions or ask questions, but not in front of outsiders."

Stiles frowned, running a hand over his buzzed hair. "Dude, you've got a shit record for making decisions that aren't maim first, ask questions later," he said. "And I don't always have a good filter."

Peter chuckled but didn't say anything.

Derek nodded. "I know," he said, smirking slightly. "Even with that, I still consider you a potential asset."

"Your willingness to challenge your Alpha makes you particularly valuable," Peter said, his tone suddenly gentle. "It's rare for a Beta to force an Alpha to address problems in his decisions, and it helps keep them grounded." He looked at Stiles, a faint smile on his face. "You have enough willingness to challenge your Alpha without making it any kind of challenge shows your potential to stand in as a Second without presenting a threat to the Alpha's position in the pack," he said.

Stiles wasn't entirely sure how to react. He had a feeling that Peter was thinking about the night on the lacrosse field, and what had happened when he'd forced him to help find Derek. "Good to know," he said slowly.

Derek was watching the two of them with an odd look on his face. For a moment, Stiles was sure he was going to ask what was happening, but Derek instead shifted on the couch. "If anything major happens, or if you or your father get hurt in a way that relates to us, I need to be your first call."

"What if I can't reach you?"

"Then you call Peter," Derek said. "If something happens, we need to know what happened so we can form an appropriate response." He frowned slightly. "You can't be rash. You can't run off to do dangerous shit on your own. I know I can't force you not to do anything, but I do want you to at least tell someone in the pack and wait for some kind of backup," he said. "The pack is a communal thing, and it won't function properly unless there's cooperation between pack members."

Stiles nodded. "I'll partner up when I run off to do stupid shit," he said. "But what about the spark?"

Peter cleared his throat. "Deaton can help you with that, if you ask, but using any magic against pack members will likely be regarded as a threat, no matter your intention," he said. "And don't use any magic against intruders unless Derek knows what you're doing. Untrained mages tend to attract trouble when they use their magic without direct purpose," he added.

Stiles nodded again. "Are there any more rules? Cause it's kind of a lot already, even if it's all pretty much common sense right now."

Derek smirked. "It tends to be that way, for the most part," he said. "Werewolves are more tactile than humans, so there will be more contact between you and the rest of the pack. It will taper off a bit when you smell more permanently like pack, but there's always going to be more contact than you'll find with humans," he said. "It'll be easier to get acclimated if you spend more time with the pack."

"Where should I do that?"

"The train depot for now, unfortunately," Peter said with a poorly concealed sneer. "Until I can convince the Alpha to rebuild the Hale house, the pack is squatting."

Stiles squinted at the older man. "Somehow I don't see you camping out in an old train car," he said.

"I'm not," Peter said with a slight smirk. "But I know better than to let teenagers run rampant where I sleep," he said.

Derek sighed heavily. "The more time you spend with the pack," he said, pulling the focus back to the conversation. "The stronger the pack bonds will be, and the more stable the pack will be."

Stiles nodded. That made sense. He'd even keep his window unlocked. Maybe. He barely held back a wince when he thought about waking up to find Peter in his bedroom. Then again, maybe not. He'd think about it. "What about Scott?" he asked. "I can't shut him out. We've been through too much together."

"Even after what he's done to you?" Derek asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Putting you and your father at risk?"

"Look, dude, Scott might be a shit friend, but he's been my friend since sixth grade and I'm not turning my back on him just because he's turned into the world's biggest dumbass," he said. 

Peter smirked. "Such loyalty," he murmured.

Derek hesitated. "You don't have to stop being friends with Scott, but you need to remember that he's not pack, so there will be some things you aren't allowed to tell him," he said, looking almost reluctant to say anything. Not that Stiles could blame him, really. He and Scott had been practically inseparable since they first met. "And if you smell too much like him, it'll make the pack edgy, so try to limit your physical contact with him."

Stiles frowned, thinking it over. "It all sounds good, I guess. How do I join this party?"

"Peter, leave," Derek said suddenly.

The older man gave Derek a sour look but did as told.

Derek listened, his head cocked to the side. "He's out of range," he said, looking over at Stiles. "If you're set on this, you have to submit to me as Alpha."

"How do I do that?" Stiles asked, any anxiety replaced with genuine curiosity. 

Derek smirked, his eyes going red and showing a hint of fang. "You're a smart kid," he said. "You'll think of it."

Stiles hesitated for a moment, watching Derek almost warily as the werewolf stood and approached him. 

When he came to a stop in front of the chair Stiles was sitting in, he let out a warning growl. "You need to be serious about this," he said. "I won't let you into the pack if you're not sure about this."

"No, I'm sure," Stiles said quietly. "It's just, like, heavy?" he asked.

Derek smirked. "I know," he said. "Are you sure about this?" 

Stiles nodded. "Dude, I'm sure." He paused for a moment before it hit him. He broke eye contact, instead looking at the man's chin, and lifted his chin to bare his throat. A quick laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. "You're my Alpha now."

The low rumble that burst from Derek's chest was reassuring, calming Stiles as Derek wrapped a clawed hand around his throat. "Good," he said. After a few seconds, he let go of Stiles' throat and stepped back, the claws and fangs disappearing. The red eyes, though, stayed. "This bond goes both ways. The pack needs your presence and participation to thrive, but if there's something that you need, we can and will help you with it. It's going to take time, but you need to learn to lean on us."

"Dude, that goes for you too," Stiles said, standing up and once again meeting Derek's eyes. "Trust is a two way street here and I'm not saying you're deliberately keeping important shit from me, but I'm not working with any ulterior motives either."

"We've been through too much together for me to start off on a blank slate with you," Derek said, the red finally fading back to his annoyingly multicolored eyes. 

Stiles smirked a bit. "I'm not asking for a blank slate or anything like that. Just maybe, I dunno, give me the benefit of the doubt and not treat me like some dumbass kid who doesn't know what he's talking about," he said. 

That elicited a small smile from Derek. "I think I can do that," he said.

"Good," Stiles said. "Did you need anything else? I've got an English essay and like two hours of Chemistry to get done before class on Monday," he said.

Derek shook his head. "I'll call you if something comes up," he said, taking a few steps toward the door before stopping. "You seem content as a human," he said, looking awkward.

"I don't want the bite," Stiles said, already anticipating Derek's question. "I need to be human for my dad, so I can't take the bite right now."

Derek nodded, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "If that changes-"

"I'll tell you," Stiles said. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand over his head again. "But if I get hurt and it's bad enough that I'll die, you can bite me," he said with a shrug. "I need to be human for my dad, but I need more to be alive for him."

Derek nodded again, looking slightly pained. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Stiles grinned up at Derek, watching his Alpha walk out the front door. The phrase was strangely reassuring. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being part of a pack yet, but knowing he had someone already made him feel a bit safer. He stood in the living room for a few minutes, thinking over what had just happened.

"That was certainly interesting," Peter said, appearing beside Stiles without a sound.

"Jesus  _Christ_ , Lazarus," Stiles snapped after yelping and scrambling back a few steps. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" 

"Hardly," Peter said with a quiet chuckle. "You're sturdier than that, anyway."

Stiles scowled. "Then why'd you come back here?" he asked.

Peter offered him a small smile. "It can be overwhelming for a human to join a new pack," he said. "I came to make sure you weren't having any sort of problems taking this all in." 

"That's it? No ulterior motives from the resident Batman villain?" Stiles asked.

"Not today, darling," he said. "Besides, I could hardly pull off my role as favored villain if I wasn't dressed for it," he said, picking up his overcoat and pulling it on. "It will be strange at first, being part of our pack, but once it's stable, a true pack brings a sense of safety and inherent trust that I've never seen elsewhere," he said with a slight frown. "It just takes time, and a willingness to put in some effort."

Stiles watched the older man silently, not entirely sure how to respond to that.

Peter leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead before the younger man had the chance to pull away. "I'll be around if you get bored," he said, a genuinely amused expression on his face as he walked out of the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott's kind of a jerk right now, but that changes later. He can be a shit friend, but he's not a complete asshole and I really like the interactions between Scott and Stiles when they're friends.
> 
> Also, this is canon only until the end of season 2, but the Alpha Pack isn't a problem (so Erica and Boyd are MIA at the moment, but not with the Alphas).

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a shot at a Derek/Stiles fiction with a heavy dose of sane!Peter (because really, we all need a bit more of sassy Uncle Peter in our lives, at least to my thinking). There's also a Peter/Stiles mentor relationship in the mix, so there's that.
> 
> Overall, I've got a vague idea of where this is going, but it's all still in the planning stages, so updates will happen sporadically.
> 
> This one starts at the end of season 2, but a few changes have been made, and it's going to be a slow burn, so I can't promise too much right now.


End file.
